Hush, thrush! Hush, missen-thrush, I listen...
I heard the flush of footsteps through the loose leaves,
And a low whistle by the water's brim.

Still! Daffodil! Nay, hail me not so gaily,-
Your gay gold lily daunts me and deceives,
Who follow gleams more golden and more slim.

Look, brook! O run and look, O run!
The vain reeds shook? - Yet search till gray sea heaves,
And I will stray among these fields for him.

Gaze, daisy! Stare through haze and glare,
And mark the hazardous stars all dawns and eves,
For my eye withers, and his star wanes dim.


2

Close, rose, and droop, heliotrope,
And shudder, hope! The shattering winter blows.
Drop, heliotrope, and close, rose...

Mourn, corn, and sigh, rye.
Men garner you, but youth's head lies forlorn.
Sigh, rye, and mourn, corn...

Brood, wood, and muse, yews,
The ways gods use we have not understood.
Muse, yews, and brood, wood...

Come I’, Sit daahn, Shurrup,
Wor t' fust thin 'a' ah 'eard.
So ah grabbed uz buk fra t' back.
‘n prepared for summa’ absurd

An exam ont’ fust day ah exclaimed!
As uz face exploded wi’ rage
Ah dead eyed ‘im fra across t’ room
‘n reluctantly turned t’ page

T’ year continued like ‘dis,
‘n uz nem appeared ont’ board
‘n ta quote wah’ I’d learnt fra’ uz studies,
Ah felt wretched ‘n abhorred

Tahhm passed by,
‘n 'e 'n class began ta connect.
n suddenly 'a' dislikin,
turned inter respect.

Tahhm went furtha,
as 'e yelled 'n laughed 'n cussed,
‘n suddenly ‘a’ respect,
turned inter complete trust.

‘e’d lern wee randa facts,
‘n sha wee gormless vids.
'e’d respect wee li' adults,
'n nivva' treat wee li' kids.

'n even when ah wor glum,
‘n wasn’t feelin missen,
‘e’d finn' eur way ta use 'is words
ta nurse uz back ta 'ealth.

‘n when 'e sez 'e wor leavin, everybody’s 'eart cried,
We didn’t want ta seh tarreur,
teur t' bloke who’d bin ah guide

Sa t' best we can doa is come togetha,
‘n gatha orl wee folks.
'n wish t' best o' luck ta ah ‘un 'n onny,
Yorksha bloke.

Hello Pop,
You said you liked a good story.
I'm no good at tellen stories, coz you were always the one that told'em and I was always the one that listened but,
I got one now.

Not a nice one.
None'a that feel good **** you see on TV.
But, it's a story
and I owe you one.

It's about you,
the bits you missed,
and me:
the not so good for a so called 'good kid'.
Not that many called me that
But,
then you went and did.

Made me think I couldn't be so bad.

Yet here I am.

Throwin stone's when I've got no one to hit.
Too bored to eat or sleep, just fucken spit.
Wishen that great god gave me someone to hit.

I'm a sick girl, ya know.
That's what they tell me.

Sick compared to those straight kids -
the pride of Glory Spring.
"Glory to God!" they all fucken sing
and even me who can’t speak good
can still recite that invisible,
unbearable
ditsy
dimpled
****.
He was your favourite story and everyone elses, after all.
Vicar Roy made sure of that.

Vicar Roy.
With his crinkly eyes
his toothy grin
the way he wouldn't blink when you challenged him.
God while god was hiding from the mess he made,
but God was doin’ nothen for me.
Ma saw that before you could.
She wanted me out,
She wanted me taken to a real city so they could study my head,
the way it worked.
The way my words never came
just a crooked grin.
But, even when the crayons became weapons
and the kittens went missen
The Vicar went and blessed me the same way.

Glory Spring, with its neat little rows of cottages and cabbage gardens,
so evenly cut.
Soft colours,
bright greens.
So good,
good,
good.
Then I came along.
Rabid,
urban wild
itchen for a stomach slit
goin' "Guts for you"
after "Treat or trick?"
setten haystacks on fire
tryen to find the pin
only to drop it on purpose.

Are you scared of me, Pa?
I think even God is scared of what he created.
That's why we never see him,
but I'm here now Pa.
You can't hide from me
and I gotta story of why you don't gotta no more.

Mother Queen Barbie, another part of the image of society that the blind prophet can use to swear. "Morning clouds of hair color between the fingers elaberiyskiya", "The anger of the Lord in the cat of your dreams", "waves of cold water", "access to the art of protection", "the elasticity of the white skin is a must to the remote machine broken with burns on the hands of the children; security abstract and pregnant draws the eyes of the ugly century's bright plastic bad boys smelling married to empty space safely painting for the people's gypsy universe of ****; Satan carrying cones to the witches in *****; cone of flames to the mouth of the ghost guitar bringing the price angle to its knees out of love again; play Ayani waiting for a new use of the desert background trees dancing shadow daughters of the family; *** with ****** ladies stupid case soft rain deep knowledge fells the ***** of the north with blonde fingers; fingers down her *** accidentally won the attractive ****** painting asks the planet dying of Ivan's mules space ****; sign of clear dawn's wind monster or the life of talkative bars more [Easily] to support genius and convents have dens devoted to the skin company on the farm to mourn a lot, grab a crazy lover k emits ... 1 490 Ireland and Scotland fought in 1468 on an island outside the framework that saw the covenant and the Hebrew and the seated image of God to **** our life is the best form of ******* oppression and the Holy Spirit can say that again. The ***** and the return to the luminosity of marriage is not race, the salt has lost. Its salinity in the kingdom of salt that is lost and that is the lamp that burns the boats mentioned in it will only serve it. Now, the purpose of the sources of the mind to perceive your body when you hear what it means to be wrong is that men and women are divided into angels who are in love with the senses, the ******* and the fool of me; They will die by the wind, the clouds mixed with the trees 5 TSN exillis for six days while they enjoyed the lakes of the whole world and the mushrooms are hidden for the vision of Missen. Look, John's word of knowledge and the tree is easy to maintain and most of the air of my pieta of the Emperor rules 1. But the foolishness of the Citadel of the senses of half of what is basically an idea of ​​spirit humble, the city is separated from the Most High. If you want to get land, that's where we saw the place of the line. We need a lot of money and I know Melissa. And now there is nothing we can not live for. What is money, money, but research and research? The thief in the world is getting warmer. And not only PSK many dogs. Four fields The child is the same: "Help me get sick." It works like a business and investment in work. This game is a global connection. The curtain of water. According to the entrance of many female heads and prostitutes in the *****'s house, and Alby's dogs. There are many benefits to the benefits. Electronic shoes for injections; Resources in Scotland. 1468 = 1490 due to global warming, said the secretary. Soccer, however, is a bill. The air is clean. Moscow fisherman This is useful for children. "Hot and Melissa, female talents are pretty good for girls, Warlock PSK Blogger deals with what they want to understand what's going on in the world." I eat fruits at night, they do not. "Mini Skirts 1490: 1. Scotland, the most important nation of China, decided to test global globalization and distinguish between the type of concept and one of the largest amino acids in Europe: Italian yellow, which is neither Greek nor Romanian now with John and Nobody lives in the provinces of Asia, where there is no reason to despise the whole person from the heart of the air and the woman on the left side, the sky in the air and for the first time in Africa and the Holy Father: His young body and how the body ****** and the gospel story of the Jews and the friends of the poetry Polikis Brou Hey, under the rules of the cattle of all the activities of the pasta, which took place during the children, said the Christian robotic vision Christ and Igor in stone by the finger, but the door is cut off, the eyes, the girl walks.

Soms missen we een halte,
soms mist er een wagon.
Soms missen we gestalte
en soms wat vroeger kon.

We tsjoeken bijna allemaal
ver voorbij fatsoen.
Voor stilvallen is geen taal,
daar is niets aan te doen.

Tsjoeken, tsjoeken, elke dag,
alsof nu en dan iets anders
geen optie is, niet mag.

Wat als ik wil rusten? Of
is die vraag voor jou te bruut?
Ik zal maar verder tsjoeken, tsjoeke, tsjoeke tuut.

1.
(Short quote)
I have legs,I wanna fly..
I don't have wings..,
But I wanna try..
I can leave everything..
But not my dreams..!


2.
(Cover)
Sometimes things can change,
But you don't  try..
Sometimes you weep alone..
Cause you are wry,
Sometimes your ego..
And self respect becomes greater than you..
Sometimes you take it as wrong..
Sometimes you just need to try..
Every situation and circumstances..
Can be overcomed..
And i will be overwhelmed..
If you say me a "Hi"..

Sometimes,you let me cry..
Cry and only cry..
For my miseries and mistakes..
Baby do you think..
I only need to die..?

Maybe You will be happy,
May that happen too..

But Till I am alive..,
I wanted to saw your charms and beauty.
The beauty which was ever mine..,

Even you didn't admit,I knew all that..
I don't know what happened and how.!

A STORMY WIND CAME AND BLEW THE ALL..! But still,sometimes when I am on the ****,everything slows down..and when I am sinking,I see a spark..far away. I don't if it's  hope. But,I know..Even if it is..you'll never Recognise it.
(It's caption) :-
Say that you love me..,
Say that you miss me..,
Say what you feel..
Say you'll **** me..
For my habits,and my mistakes..
Say that you'll slap me hard,
When you meet me..
Say that I look ugly..
Say that you'll be mine..
Say whatever it is,
It will be fine.

Say at least anything,
And I will be okay.

If you won't how will I know.
I have listened a lot by your eyes,
But you said I was wrong.
How can I be wrong again.

3.
I still remember how you had disrupted my silence..
I remember,how you had torn the papers of my copy,when we had a quarrel,
I remember,how I had cut my hand,
I remember,how you had plucked a flower.
Still remember,you used to unrooted the grass,to throw on me.
When we sat together,in the ground.
Ouch,still remember how you had bite my fingers..
When you were eating out of my hand.
I remember,how you broke the phone,
And how you smashed the bottles,

I still remember,how you had broken the flower ***,
And was still laughing.

I remember,how you fell by dad's bike,
And had broken the pass lights,
And i lied to him.,I had lost control.

I remember,how you cracked the IIT,
I remember,how you was on infinity.
I remember,how I had become less for U.
I remember,how you had come home..
And said me to treat as a friend.

I remember,how you had said to "forget you",
And termed my love as "****" .
I remember,how calmly you broke it,
And how harshly it made the sound.
I remember,how I had been numb.
Hadn't eaten by weeks,
How pointlessly i passed the streets.

4.
I miss you in the darkness,
I miss you in the  light.

I miss you being missen,
When i was high.

I miss you on the question-
"Why i am shy"..?
What's  wrong with me,
If i also loved you.

I miss your laughters and,
Well,laughing really hard. .

How hard you have been .?

Al even durf ik niet te geloven,
onder ogen te zien,
wat er allemaal verschoven is.
Ik mis routine, moet mezelf terug
kunnen verliezen in zaken
om ze achter de rug te weten geraken.

Ik heb moeite met onzekerheden,
waarschijnlijk door gebeurtenissen
uit mijn overdreven, zacht verleden.
Enkel zo kan ik een voor een de dagen wissen,
de tijd van toen terug missen
kortom niet langer
mijn levenslust vergissen.

Vertrekken is niet makkelijk. Dat is het nooit geweest.
Je pakt je koffer, ziet je naasten wachten,
ziet ze smachten en ze zijn bedeesd.

Ze willen dat je terugkeert, dat je niet verleert
wie ze zijn en wat ze je verteld hebben.
Ze willen niet vergeten, geen laatste keer
gedag zeggen.

Het is een sprong die je moet wagen,
ik zal je missen voor zovele dagen.

(Ik wil graag wat zeggen
het komt er niet goed uit
Ik wil mijn gevoelens open leggen
maar er komt maar geen geluid

Het gaat ook niet om mij)

Er was eens de allervriendelijkste man,
waarover niemand kwade woorden spreken kan.
Ongewild heeft hij ons moeten verlaten
vandaag wordt zo een dag vol graten
waarop woorden veel te kort
en kroppen in de keel.

We kunnen nergens meer aan denken,
niets anders onze aandacht schenken,
weten niet meer of *** of wat of niet,
er staat enkel maar verdriet
op ons gezicht te lezen.

Wij denken aan en missen,
willen de dagen even overslaan,
de gebeurtenis omzeilen, wissen.
Helaas mogen wij dat niet beslissen.
Wat voelt en klinkt dat ongelooflijk raar,
het verlies van een weergaloze winnaar.

Wat gaat het er naar aan toe.
Het maakt zelfs niet meer uit
wat ik morgenochtend doe
met mijn rood gelopen snuit.

Ik voel zwartgalligheid van mensen
die missen wat *** emoties wensen.
Ze weten niet waarheen te gaan
met die frons, die lach, die traan.

Ze zijn niet dom of soms,
altijd ongelukkig, nukkig,
klagend om iets stoms.

Niemand kan ze helpen want
ze willen niet geholpen.
In stilte kijk ik naar mezelf
en wacht ik op die mand

om door te vallen.